


30 Day OTP Challenge - MGR/RP Edition

by memeticistmonsoon



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Attempts at humour, Crack, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, M/M, Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance - Freeform, Other, metal gear rising
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27981876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memeticistmonsoon/pseuds/memeticistmonsoon
Summary: Using the 30 Day OTP Challenge that originated on tumblr, here is a collection of short stories featuring a criminally rare pair. A collection of short stories I started a good few years ago while roleplaying the character Monsoon on tumblr using the 30 OTP Challenge prompts. Many of these are headcanon heavy, some are based on an AU I had running with my girlfriend, a lot of them are not very serious works at all. Posting them here so that I have a collection that is all in one spot.
Relationships: Monsoon/Samuel Rodrigues
Kudos: 2





	1. Holding Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jetstreamin.tumblr.com](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jetstreamin.tumblr.com).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was based within an AU mentioned in the summary. Monsoon, known as Phirun, was adopted by the CEO of a fictional corporation/PMC and owned his own small pharmaceutical company. Sam was his bodyguard. Goodness knows what was happening in Denver. Very much a 'what could have been' timeline, though not always fluffy.

“Does it really bother you so much what they think?” The Cambodian held his hands in his lap, looking up from his seat at his bodyguard, who stared out of the window across at the group of paparazzi, who barely stuck to the rules of staying a respectful distance from the main gate. He supposed one millimetre was about as respectful a distance as they could maintain.

“They write about me like I’m your sex toy,” he grumbled, turning away from the window. “Like you can’t feel affection… like I’m just some whore…”

The younger man’s shoulders were incredibly tense, and the elder rose to massage them gently, resting his cheek atop the other’s head. “We know the truth, don’t we? Besides… we need to leave the office eventually. We can’t afford to be worried about what they think.”

Sighing, the Brazilian walked away to open the door for his client. “I just wish that sometimes…”

There was silence, and the tension was palpable. The scientist folded his arms, blinking pale blue eyes at the other. “Sometimes…?”

Looking to the floor, Sam shrugged. “Sometimes I wish you wouldn’t be afraid to be affectionate.”

Moving out ahead to keep the paparazzi away, Sam didn’t look back at Phirun, who stopped to dwell on that for a moment. How to be innocently affectionate in front of such vultures as the British press?

And then, inspiration struck. It was so simple he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner. 

Joining Sam at the main gate, he quickly slipped his hand into his boyfriend’s, interlacing their fingers, his sights set on his car. He couldn’t see the young man’s grateful smile, but the gentle squeeze communicated everything. Dragged through the crowd as security dealt with the gate, he laughed off questions and camera flashes before climbing into the driver’s seat of his car and heading off for home. At the next red light, he flashed a sideways grin to his faithful passenger, who silently held his hand out. Giving it a squeeze, the Cambodian sighed contentedly.

“I don’t think it’s going to stop them writing their stories about you,” he pointed out, both hands back on the steering wheel. Sam shrugged, relaxing. 

“Maybe not,” he conceded, stretching his legs. “But at least they’ll have some nice close-up photographs.”


	2. Cuddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Cuddling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in the MGR universe. Short musings.

In moments like these, it was as though pain and misery didn’t exist. It was as though they two were timeless, living in a different plane of existence to everyone and everything else, and there was no suffering, nothing to fear, nothing to be disgusted by or be woeful about, nothing to fuel the cyborg’s misanthropic state. Just himself and Samuel, curled up close, warm fingers caressing his scalp, playing with his white hair, braiding it and unbraiding it as Monsoon lazily coiled locks of that soft, dark hair around his fingers.

These days were rare, when they could run off to one of their rooms or a space no-one was using and curl up together, sometimes feverishly kissing one another, impassioned touches and needy moans melting into one another. Other times, like this time, they rested their exhausted bodies against one another and simply cuddled, maybe talking, maybe not, maybe singing, maybe not.

It often wound up with one or both of them sleeping in the other’s arms, soft breaths and steady heartbeats thrumming, alive, still alive, alive and so deeply in love.

Monsoon would never admit it out loud, but these sleepy days which had originally been on Sam’s insistence were fast becoming his favourite.


	3. Watching a movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 03 - Watching a movie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MGR universe. Fluffy.

Sam actually thought it was kind of cute. He’d talked the Cambodian into sitting with him on their day off to watch a movie, one he thought the elder might appreciate, full of philosophy and fighting. It was, of course, another excuse to spend time with the other, to feel “normal” in a world which was very much not. When he was with Monsoon, sometimes he felt “normal”, just like anyone else with a job and a love life. Sometimes, he noticed that Monsoon, despite his protests, was just human, lonely and needy as anyone, and capable of as much love and compassion as anyone else.

In this case, he was also just as capable of being bored to sleep.

Within twenty minutes, the cyborg, who prided himself on his beautifully structured body which enabled him to stay awake longer than the average human, had drifted off to dreamland. Apparently the movie wasn’t to his liking after all. Sighing and shaking his head, the samurai carefully dismantled the headgear which allowed the other to see, reasoning that he didn’t need it if he was going to sleep during the movie, and pulled him down so that his head rested in Sam’s lap.

Towards the end of the movie, as Sam idly played with the Cambodian’s hair, said Cambodian turned over onto his back, facing up. His eyes were wide open, and for a moment, Sam imagined that he was going to wind up under the bed with a new scar or two.

“Wake me when it’s over,” Monsoon yawned, and he nestled against his lover, warm and gentle. When the movie ended, Sam shifted so that he was lying on his side, facing his beloved, and kissed him softly on the lips until he was roused from sleep.

“It’s over, love,” he whispered. With a wicked but sleepy grin, the cyborg pulled the younger closer.

“Good,” he purred, kissing his neck insistently. “Now you can pay me some attention.”


	4. On A Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 04 - On A Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MGR universe. I took some liberties that I know some people disagreed with at the time - giving Monsoon the choice of non-combat body and removing the snail eyes, leaving him blind without the visor. This was and still is how I choose to interpret Monsoon. You can fight me over it but we'll have to agree to disagree.
> 
> I know this one is bad and the petting is ridiculous. I thought it was funny at the time.

As the collar around his neck chafed and cut his flesh, he really only had himself to blame for his predicament, crawling around after his master on hands and knees, gravel leaving imprints in the heels of his palms. With a few days before an important mission, the Brazilian had insisted that they go out on a date, that the elder use his civilian body so they could enjoy Denver. Naturally, Monsoon’s acquiescence had come with a few conditions to which Sam had blindly agreed.

The first was that, since the cyborg was blind out of his combat body, Sam would have to guide him around the city. The second was that Monsoon could choose the location and activity. The third was that the elder could lead the young samurai around using the leash and collar which had been bought for his 50th birthday.

As they came to stop by the fountain, Sam almost wished he hadn’t even thought of that idea. 

Everyone was staring, and he could hear scornful tutting, giggling, see pointing and heads shaking. None of it perturbed the cyborg, who sat at the edge of the fountain and opened his book to the correct page. Braille, some sort of book about memes, he reckoned. The samurai choked a little as his leash was yanked, and with a grumble, he sat next to his master, once more enduring the brave women who approached the Cambodian to ask about the guide Brazilian, who listened intently to how the poor albino was registered blind and needed help to get around, and don’t service animals belong on the floor? Oh, and wouldn’t they love to pet him? Go on; he’s soft. It was humiliating, but he endured it, even as they scratched behind his ear or under his chin.

All this for a date didn’t seem worth it. It was almost not worth being Monsoon’s pet.

Only almost, though.

After about an hour, the ninja tired of his book and set it aside, patting his knee to indicate how Sam should be sitting, and the samurai sighed happily, leaning against his master, who gently stroked his scalp as they basked in the warmth of the summer’s day. They would have to head back soon… which meant backtracking through all that gravel…

“Give me your hand, pet,” the elder crooned, and with a confused quirk of a brow, he offered his mechanical hand. Monsoon shook his head. “The flesh one.”

Cupping the younger’s hand in his own, the Cambodian was surprisingly sweet, affectionate, tending to the indentations and scuff marks in his calloused palm, lifting it to his delicate lips and bestowing him with the tiniest kisses. “If you’re as good on the way home,” he purred, scratching behind his lover’s ear. “I’ll make sure to clean you up like this again.”

“Aye, master,” he said with a smile, taking to his hands and knees again, the promise of reward revitalising him. Yes… for all the trouble… it really wasn’t so bad, being a ninja’s pet samurai.


	5. Kissing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 05 - Kissing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MGR universe, Sam's perspective.

When they’ve been apart for an inordinate amount of time, their lips meet before their hands begin roaming each other’s bodies, desperate to finally close the distance between them, guided by need and lust. When they make love, their kisses are long and slow as though tasting one another for the first time, and when they fuck their kisses are passionate, fiery, devouring one another like it’s the last time they’ll meet. Fleeting smooches during missions are secret and sweet, a silent I love you that is never again mentioned, just in case.

The kisses Sam loves the best though are those little ones, not asked for, just given at his master’s whim. To the backs of his fingers when he reaches to play with the cyborg’s soft hair, a swift claiming of the man as his own, a surprisingly soft caress with thin, pale lips. To his cheekbones as they lie together, to the top of his head in passing. Absent little kisses, like pockets of affection, a sweet reminder that despite the sharp edges, his master really does love him. That even though his tongue is harsh and his words acidic, though he behaves coldly sometimes and makes a show of ownership, underneath it and close to the surface is the deepest love, devotion, need.

As they lie together in the haze of afterglow, lazy and satisfied, lips pressed sweetly to the Brazilian’s eyelids, he smiles to himself, thinking and deciding. Yes, it’s these little kisses which are definitely the best.


	6. Wearing Each Other's Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 06 - Wearing Each Other's Clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another AU. Sam is a ghost after being murdered in a raid on his family's dojo. Monsoon, named Phirun here, is an unaffiliated cyborg trying to survive in the favela. Originally published on tumblr on August 04th 2015.

Phirun reclined sideways across the chair, relaxed and casual, wearing the finest yukata, beautifully patterned, rather feminine, but Sam insisted it was his own, and it was nice to walk around the favela in during the hot summer. It was short on the Cambodian, and rather restrictive n his legs, so it was bunched up into his lap, hiding his genitalia under a mass of beautiful fabric.

“Come now, spirit,” the elder drawled, kicking a leg lazily over the arm of his chair. “Don’t tell me you’re getting shy now?”

The spirit had been in an odd mood, challenging the ninja to ridiculous dares, possibly to stave off the boredom of being trapped in this house for eternity, with Phirun’s involvement being an attempt to lighten his mood for finding himself confined indoors during the sunny hours.

This dare was about wearing each other’s clothes, a rather tame idea and one that the Cambodian was only too glad to oblige, and for one specific reason.

The spirit’s humiliation.

“Samuel? You haven’t crossed over, have you?” he teased, shifting in his seat. A grumble came from behind the screen.

“Your armour doesn’t fit me,” he moaned, not appearing just yet, sounding very much like a grieving ghoul. “I’m too broad…” And short, thought the Cambodian, who sort of wished he had some popcorn.

“This was your idea, Samuel,” he reminded him almost sternly. “Out you come.”

Slowly but surely, out shuffled the spirit, head handing low as he cupped his genitalia behind his hands. Ah, but he was beautiful. Muscular and lithe, covered in dense, dark hair, though not enough he might mistake the young man for a wild beast. He could still see the contours of his form, every point of muscle and sinew, and he chewed his lip in a satisfied smirk. Even that gash in his chest didn’t seem so bad… or perhaps seeing the rest of his body helped to distract from it. Beckoning him forward with a finger, the Cambodian chuckled.

“You look beautiful,” he said, without a hint of irony. “But you must be cold. Come sit in my lap; I’ll warm you up.”

The samurai looked horrified at the prospect, gaining a little physical transparency. “I - I can’t,” he managed, flustered. “I’ll ruin the yukata…”

Phirun gave a hearty laugh, possibly the first genuine laugh he’d given here. It only made the boy blush darker. “You’ve seen my body,” he pointed out, still beckoning him over. “No big deal.”

It took some coaxing, but the boy finally became solid enough to bundle himself into the ninja’s arms, and Phirun could swear he started purring as skilled fingers trailed up and down his exposed back. The Cambodian gave a contented sigh. It wasn’t the fast pace he was used to, fighting for survival, but it wasn’t always so bad. At least it wasn’t lonely.


	7. Cosplaying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 07 - Cosplaying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MGR universe. Originally published on tumblr on August 23rd 2015.

The Cambodian was feeling a multitude of emotions. Rage, because he’d somehow allowed himself to be roped into this ridiculous “mission”. Embarrassment, because the outfit kind of suited him. Bemusement, because of all the plans in all of the world, how did dressing up as a couple and sabotaging a panel help World Marshal at all? As he fussed with the wig - he refused to dye his perfectly groomed hair for this - he could hear Sam outside the bathroom, trying to reassure him. As he peered into the mirror with squinted eyes, trying to focus on his blurred face, it wasn’t working.

“Come on, my captain,” he crooned through the door, his suspect accent melodic and gentle. “Let’s see how you look.”

Slowly, the door creaked open. Though Monsoon couldn’t see the Brazilian’s face, he heard the chuckling, and he almost bunched his dress up to return to the confines of the cool bathroom. 

“Ay, you… should let me fix your make-up,” he said sympathetically, and before he could protest, the cyborg was assaulted with wipes and make-up brushes.

“There. Aside from the scowl… what a beautiful princess you make,” came the snickering result, and the Cambodian aggressively looped his arm through his lover’s.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he groaned, and with that they set off into the crowd,.. to calls of ‘ohmigosh Zelda’s so tall!’ following them. So much for discreet.


End file.
